


I Hope You Don't Mind

by Spiderlass



Series: Tales From Duckburg! [1]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: ADHD Character, Ableism, Ableist Language, Autistic Character, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Season 2, Pre-Relationship, am I projecting onto these characters like nobody's business?, autistic Drake, autistic/adhd Launchpad, meltdowns, you betcha!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 07:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20689811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiderlass/pseuds/Spiderlass
Summary: Launchpad has a less-than-stellar encounter with a member of Scrooge's Board of Directors. Drake is there to commiserate.





	I Hope You Don't Mind

In Launchpad’s defense, he hadn’t even really  _ crashed  _ into Mr. Buzzard’s car. He’d barely even dented the fender, let alone cause any lasting harm.

He kind of got the feeling that Mr. Buzzard’s anger was more about the principle of the thing.

“Honestly, McDuck, this is the eighth time your driver has damaged my car!”

“Aye, but it’s the first time in well over three months now innit? Besides, it’s naught but a fender bender! He could probably fix it for ya right now, ain’t that right, Launchpad?”

“Ah, yessir, Mr. McDee! I’ll just grab some tools out of the back and-!”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary. I’d rather have a  _ professional  _ look at it.” Mr. Buzzard sighed, giving Mr. McDuck a look. “Mr. McDuck. I understand that you feel you need a driver that can handle your...  _ lifestyle, _ but did you really have to go with a driver that’s so...  _ slow?” _

_ Slow. _

The word made Launchpad’s blood turn cold, heart leaping into his throat.

“Wh-  _ excuse  _ me?”

“Oh, come on, McDuck, don’t tell me you don’t think so. I understand that having someone  _ like him  _ in your employ is good for your public image, but at some point you’re going to have to hire someone who doesn’t have the competence of a  _ child.” _

He breathed shallowly, clenching his fists at his side and gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep calm.

“Now you listen here, you sanctimonious sack of-!”

“Mr. McDee, it’s-!” Launchpad swallowed, plastering on a smile to try and mask the way his stomach churned. “It’s fine. I’m- I’m fine.”

Mr. McDuck didn’t look at all convinced, eyebrows knitting together in concern. 

“Lad, come on now, I’m not gonna just let him-!”

“It’s fine, really! I- um.” He cleared his throat, glancing over at the limo. “We really, we really should get back to the mansion, yeah? Wouldn’t want to, to miss dinner, right?”

Mr. McDuck opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it, sighing and nodding before turning back to Mr. Buzzard. 

“I’ll send the bill to the usual place,” Mr. Buzzard stated with an air of finality.

“Wouldn’t expect any different. Have a...  _ pleasant  _ evening, Bradford.”

Launchpad noticed that Mr. McDuck didn’t sound particularly sincere, but if Mr. Buzzard noticed he didn’t say anything, instead nodding curtly at Mr. McDuck and leaving without acknowledging Launchpad at all.

Mr. McDuck thankfully didn’t say anything on the drive home, which was good because Launchpad had to put a lot more energy than usual into tuning out all the sound and flashing lights that came with driving. He couldn’t even turn the radio onto a low hum without feeling a dizzying pressure behind his eyes, the vibration alone just too much to process. 

“Well, now, Launchpad, I daresay that was the smoothest ride home I’ve gotten in quite a while!” Mr. McDuck said with clearly forced cheer as he got out of the limo in front of the mansion. 

“Huh? Oh, uh, thanks, Mr. McDee...”

Mr. McDuck glanced to the side, clearly hesitating, before letting out a sigh.

“Look, laddie, about what that birdbrain Bradford said earlier-!”

“Mr. McDee, if it’s okay with you, I think I’m just gonna turn in for the night.”

Mr. McDuck blinked, eyebrows rising to near comical heights.

“Wuh- without dinner? Ya seemed so set on getting back here for that back at the bin.”

“Y-Yeah, uh, I’m not as, as hungry as I thought I was, I guess.”

Mr. McDuck gave him a disbelieving look.

“Launchpad-!”

“Okay, goodnight Mr. McDee!” Launchpad said quickly, slamming his foot on the gas and peeling out of the driveway. He heard Mr. McDuck call after him as he made his way over to the garage, but if he was mad then that was a problem for future Launchpad to deal with, because present Launchpad really needed to- he just- just needed to-

“Just need to  _ stop,”  _ he muttered as he pulled into the garage, wincing at how loud the door was when it went down. “Need to, to calm down, to- to do  _ something!” _

Launchpad grit his teeth, slapping his hands over his ears and pressing in on his head as he started to pace.

_ “I’m sorry, Mrs. McQuack, but I’m afraid that there’s nothing else we can do to accommodate your son.” _

_ “That’s ridiculous! Look here, we got that fancy 504 plan all sorted out, you’re supposed to-!” _

_ “Provide Launchpad with assistance so that he has access to an education equal in quality to that of his peers, yes, but unless you want to enroll him in special education, there’s nothing else we can do.” _

_ “Why, you-!” _

“Stop fighting,” Launchpad whispered, worming his fingers under his hat and tugging at his hair. “Stop fighting, it’s- it’s not worth it, I’ll be okay, please just stop...”

_ “Launchpad, for the last time, you have to show your work when you do math. I don’t care if you got the answer right, you need to show me how you got there! Honestly, it’s no wonder everyone thinks you’re slow.” _

Launchpad’s eyes burned.

_ “Hey, look at Launchpad! Aw, is the big crybaby all sad because the teacher told him she didn’t like his stupid Darkwing Schmuck drawing?” _

Breathing. He had to breathe, but it was hard, and why were the lights so bright in here, why was the wind in the trees outside so  _ loud,  _ why did it hurt so much, why, why-!

_ “Just go away! No one likes you, you re-!” _

Launchpad dashed up the stairs of the loft, running over to the hammock and grabbing his weighted blanket before flopping onto his makeshift bed and covering himself, knowing there was nothing he could do now to stop the meltdown. He let out a hoarse scream into his pillow, curling up and rocking under the blanket as best he could. 

It hurt. It burned, suffocating him, making him feel as though something was tearing him apart and then smashing the pieces back together over and over again, and it was all just- just-

Just so much. Too much. 

It was always too much.

When it was finally over, Launchpad felt sick to his stomach. The feathers on his face were damp with either tears, sweat, or a mixture of both, and all of his limbs felt heavy, his head throbbing in pain. 

He took a breath. Then another. Another. He turned over to stare at the ceiling, letting his mind go blank as he tried to recover. For all he knew, hours might have passed like that.

Then his phone rang, making him jolt and sit up straight in the hammock. He fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket, and despite everything he couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the picture of Drake he’d set to his contact. He hesitated, weighing if he really felt up to talking to anyone, then decided that Drake was not just  _ anyone  _ before he picked up the call.

“Huh... H-Hello?” Launchpad winced at how rough his voice sounded.

_ “Hey, where are you? I thought you wanted to meet up to patrol tonight.” _

Crap. He  _ had  _ said that.

“I- um. Can’t. Can’t meet.” He winced again, swallowing hard and focusing. “I-I mean can’t- I can’t meet up right now. S-Sorry.”

Drake was silent for a moment, and Launchpad wished with all his might that words weren’t so hard right then, because he needed to fill that silence, needed to make things okay, less heavy, Drake shouldn’t have to-!

_ “Launchpad?”  _ Drake asked, voice blessedly soft and gentle.  _ “Launchpad, what’s the matter?” _

Launchpad flinched, hunching his shoulders a bit and fidgeting in his seat. 

“I, um, I, I just, can’t- can’t-!” Launchpad groaned, cursing under his breath.

_ “Okay, well now I  _ know  _ something’s up. You never swear!” _

“I-I do too! And nothing wrong- nothing  _ is  _ wrong! I’m... I’m fine...”

_ “... Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” _

Launchpad flinched again, swallowing hard as he tried to find some excuse before realizing that... well, that Drake was  _ like him.  _ They’d talked about it, they’d talked about having meltdowns and unclear social conventions and needing to move and- and-

Drake would understand. He’d get it.

“I... I actually, um. Had a really bad day.”

Drake was quiet on the other end for a minute. 

_ “When you say a bad day, that means...?” _

Launchpad sighed, bringing his knees up to his chest.

“‘Member that story I told you about the- the airshow in Mouseton back in ‘98?”

_ “Ah.  _ That  _ kind of bad day. Are you okay?” _

“... No,” he admitted quietly.

_ “Yeah, didn’t think so. You want me to come over?” _

“... yeah.”

_ “Alright, I’ll be over there as soon as-!” _

Launchpad’s stomach growled loudly, and he blushed a bit while Drake snickered.

“Sorry.”

_ “It’s- it’s fine. Want me to drive through somewhere and pick up some burritos?” _

“... yes please.”

* * *

Drake had to admit, he wasn’t really sure what to expect here. 

He knew how tough the post-meltdown period could be, of course- he’d had his fair share of them, after all- but, well, in the few months that he and Launchpad had known each other, neither of them had ever reached out to the other after having one. 

He was actually kind of touched that Launchpad told him. He himself was still kind of hesitant to talk to anyone after his own meltdowns, even someone as sweet and gentle and perfect and handsome as-

Drake cleared his throat, willing himself to stop blushing and trying to put his stupidly stubborn little crush out of his head for just a little while.

Anyway, he still wasn’t sure what to expect from a post-meltdown Launchpad. The poor guy had sounded really rough on the phone, far removed from his usual happy-go-lucky self. Worry had gnawed at Drake’s gut the entire drive over; he’d even looked up a few tips about general post-meltdown care on his phone while at stoplights. 

He just hoped it would be enough to help Launchpad out.

“Launchpad?” He called as he fished his key out of his pocket. “Launchpad, I’m here. You doing any better?”

He heard a muffled grunt of dissent from inside, and he sighed as he turned the key in the lock.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” he murmured, opening the door and walking into the garage. He glanced around as he placed his bag on the end table next to the couch, frowning. “Hey, where are you?”

“‘M up here,” a muffled voice called from above. Drake glanced up at the loft as he took out the bottle of water he’d picked up at the gas station, pursing his lips as he started up the stairs. 

“LP?”

A lump on the hammock-bed moved, a tuft of red hair poking out from underneath the blanket. Drake smiled, walking over to the bed and pulling the blanket down a bit.

“Hey, big guy- eugh! Geez, you look horri- I mean, totally fine and normal.”

Launchpad gave him an almost amused yet somewhat glassy-eyed look, red hair sticking up in all directions and feathers in disarray, and Drake once again cursed his ability to expertly stick his foot right in his mouth.

“S’okay, don’t- don’t gotta lie. Know I look bad.”

Drake sighed, then held out the bottle of water to him.

“Here, drink some of this, okay?”

Launchpad grunted tiredly, moving around to get to a sitting position before taking the bottle and downing half of it in one go. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, shakily putting the cap back on the bottle.

“Don’t mention it. The burritos are downstairs if you want to eat now.”

“Mm.” Launchpad made no move to get out of the hammock, and Drake frowned.

“Uh... Launchpad? You have to physically get out of bed to get to the burritos.”

“Mm.”

Drake hesitated, then sighed, taking a step towards the hammock and pushing on Launchpad’s shoulder gently.

“Alright, scooch over.”

Launchpad seemed a bit confused, but did as Drake instructed, giving him enough room to sit next to him. The hammock swayed shakily under their weight, but ultimately held up.

“... it was a really bad one this time, huh?”

Launchpad nodded wordlessly. Drake made a sympathetic sound, then hesitated, trying to figure out how best to put it.

“I, um... I’m here. If- if you want to, to talk about what, what lead up to, uh, to that, I mean.”

He was pretty sure he’d avoided sticking his foot in his mouth, though Launchpad’s seeming lack of response made him worry that some toes might have gotten in there. He cleared his throat, fidgeting a bit.

“Er. Or- or not! We don’t- don’t have to talk about it if you don’t-!”

“Comment Mr. Buzzard made.”

Drake stopped, blinking before furrowing his brow.

“I... don’t remember who that is.”

Launchpad laughed a little.

“He’s- he’s on McDuck Industries’ Board of Directors. I, um, kinda dented his car’s fender on accident, and he got really mad about it, and he... um... kinda said that Scrooge only hired me because it would make him look good to employ someone who’s... slow.”

Drake blinked, then narrowed his eyes as anger started boiling in his gut, wondering if it would be so bad if Darkwing Duck paid a visit to a certain business buzzard. 

“I... I see,” he said instead, clearing his throat. “Launchpad, you- you know that’s not true, right?”

Launchpad gave him a wry smile.

“Y-Yeah, I... I know, it just... it just stings, y’know? Being reminded that people... people don’t think...”

“... don’t respect you?”

Launchpad sighed, nodding. Drake bit his lip, glancing away as he tried to think of a way to help his friend.

“... look, I... I know it sucks when people don’t respect us because we don’t- don’t think the same way they do, or do things the way they do, but...” Drake trailed off for a moment, pushing back on the memory of his last conversation with his parents before clearing his throat. “But, well, they’re... they’re wrong. You’re... you’re one of the best people I know, Launchpad.”

“... I am?” Launchpad asked in a small voice.

“You kidding? You’re- you’re amazing! You’re brave, funny, probably the only person who knows as much about Darkwing Duck as I do, you’re hand-!” Drake cringed, snapping his beak shut before he could finish the word  _ handsome  _ and clearing his throat. “You’re, uh, you’re handy to have around, and, and... well, it’s a little bit cheesy, but... I know that my life is a lot better now that you’re in it. I guess... I guess what I’m saying is that if- if that old buzzard doesn’t get how great you are, then it’s his loss oof!”

As much as Drake loved-  _ appreciated  _ the size of Launchpad’s arms, he had to admit he wasn’t too keen on being snapped in half like a twig thanks to an overenthusiastic hug. He gasped for breath, pushing on Launchpad’s shoulders. 

“LP, kinda crushing my ribs here, bud-!”

Launchpad laughed a little, pulling back and finally giving him a real smile for the first time all evening. 

“Thanks, DW.”

It took Drake a second to remember that he should respond to that rather than just staring at Launchpad. He blushed, clearing his throat and looking away. 

“Of- of course, Launchpad.”

Launchpad didn’t say anything after that, and when Drake turned to look at him again, he was staring at him with that bright smile still on his face.

“... uh, you okay there, big guy?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at me. Everything okay?”

Launchpad blinked, then blushed for some reason, clearing his throat and turning around on the bed so he could get out of it.

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, I’m just- just hungry!”

Drake wasn’t sure he quite bought that, but decided that it wasn’t the best time to bring it up, instead shrugging and getting out of bed himself.

“Yeah, I’d think so after all that. Burritos might be cold by now, though.”

“No worries, I have a microwave!” Launchpad paused. “... Somewhere.”

Drake laughed, shaking his head.

“Well, maybe once we’ve found that microwave and heated up dinner, we can settle in for another Darkwing marathon.”

“Oh, sweet! There’s a couple episodes from season two I’ve been wanting to rewatch, and season four is always a good time!”

“Yeah, it- wait, are you trying to skip season three again?”

“Season four has way better characterization, Mallard!”

“Maybe so, but season three has a tighter overall narrative and you know it, McQuack!”

They bickered good-naturedly while the burritos were reheated, falling into their usual commentary roles once the show started, Launchpad seeming to forget his bad day as the night went on.

And if Drake woke up the next morning snuggled up to him on the couch?

Well, no one had to know if he decided to go right back to sleep in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Launchpad! I got you... well, ableism and a meltdown, but also Drake! And burritos!
> 
> ... Look I swear I love him, I just also really identify with him and have a tendency for projection.
> 
> Anyway, this fic came out of some... fandom issues (don't ask, if you were on Tumblr in the past few days you probably already know), which led me to thinking about how Launchpad isn't always... respected by some parts of the fandom, in a way that kinda trivializes how he's coded as neurodivergent (and specifically autistic/ADHD-coded). This upset me, because as an autistic/ADHD person myself (the flashback to Birdie arguing about academic accommodations with some school official is lifted from my own school experiences), Launchpad is one of the few characters I can really see myself in.
> 
> I mean, to a point, I'm a twenty-three-year-old female data scientist in training and he's a very large duck pilot, but still.
> 
> Anyway, this story is just... sort of me wanting to get some of those feelings out, I suppose. I also added autistic!Drake because I really love that headcanon and I wanted LP to have someone to talk to who gets it. 
> 
> Aaaaaand also because I wanted to write some DrakePad. I love them to death, okay?
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and I hope you have a lovely day!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
